


That time at The Rave

by Krash39



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krash39/pseuds/Krash39
Summary: "Have you guys gotten to explore? Or seen any ghosts?" -Backstage interview at The Rave - Madison, WI





	That time at The Rave

Zack:  
Zack leaned hard to the left feeling his board tilt under his feet. He periodically sped up and slowed down, humming absently to the rhythmic clacking of the urethane wheels over the concrete slabs. Finding the maze like sub-basement filled with long intersecting halls had been luck enough to pique his interest. The fact that Zack just happened to have his skateboard to zip along them, idly snapping pictures of leaking steam pipes and back lit broken panes of glass was enough to keep him occupied for several days, let alone the few hours before their show tonight.

He rolled past a t-junction and quickly hopped off his board. The dark intersection was filled with broken flats and wooden frames from old set pieces and canvas paintings. He framed up the angular tableau several different ways, snapping pictures with, then without the flash. In one smooth motion he stepped back onto his board and took off down the hall, looking back through the last few images he'd caught when suddenly his board slid out from under him.  
Caught by surprise Zack tumbled, shoulder first onto the concrete, rolling with the momentum. As he sat up he glanced back down the hall looking for anything that might have caught under the wheel leaving him in a heap. Nothing in the wheels, and nothing on the floor. Puzzled, Zack stood and bent down to retrieve his camera. The image on the LCD screen made his blood run cold. In one of the pictures of the last hall, staring back at him between the broken 1x3 pieces of frame, was a man's grizzled. "What the hell?" Zack surprised himself speaking out loud. He glanced around reflexively and then turned back to the camera screen. He advanced, and then went back several pictures. The face only appeared in the single frame. Zack swallowed hard and began heading back towards the hall. His curiosity combating the dread, weighing like a brick in his stomach. Despite the scuff of his sneakers being the only audible sound, he could swear his pulse was echoing off the halls as it sped up.  
  
He stood in front of the junction, gazing into the darkness. With shaking hands he raised his camera and snapped another picture. The flash lit up the hallway, shooting harsh contrasting shadows down it's walls. He swallowed hard before pressing the view image button. Zack gasped at the same face, staring back at him. Closer in the foreground of the image now. He had an unnerving smile, with lips that curled over broken yellow teeth. Without another thought Zack turned and hurried back down the hallway, pace faster, but not quite a jog. His mind raced. There had to be a reasonable explanation. An old painting he hadn't noticed when taking the picture. A trick of shadows, or an old mannequin? The feeble excuses did little for the shivers that made the hair on his arms stand up.  
He stopped at the foot of the stairs and took one final look behind him. Everything in his gut screamed not to, but despite himself, Zack raised the camera one last time and snapped a picture of the very empty hallway in front of him. And as he brought up the image his eyes went wide. At the end of the hall, stood the man. One hand in the pocket of his ratty pants, the other raised as if waiving 'good bye' his smile a stark, malevolent contrast. Zack breathed a curse and tore up the steps as fast as he could, not stopping until he reached the band's dressing room.  
"Hey, how was exploring?" Rian asked from the small couch. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Zack replied tucking the camera into his backpack.

  
Alex:  
Alex scratched through a line in his notebook and hit the space bar on his laptop again replaying a skeletal melody he'd recorded earlier, trying to finish a thought. Again he scratched through what he'd written, and tore his headphones off in frustration. "Stuck?" Jack asked from the couch behind him. Alex scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Yea." He stood, the stiffness in his legs making him realize just how long he'd been bent over the small desk. "Screw it." He thought outloud. "I'll come back to it later. What time is it?" "Almost 6" Jack replied not looking up from the magazine he was reading. "I'm gonna jump in the shower before the show." Alex said grabbing a small nylon bag . "You never clean up before our date nights!" Jack replied feigning hurt. Alex dumped a towel on his head as he left the small green room.

Alex wiped a hole in the steamed over mirror before grabbing the small electric razor from his bag. Leaning in he began taming several days worth of stubble, down to just one. "Alex." A soft voice called, unnervingly close to his left ear. He stood and turned, wet hair flinging into his eyes, to see no one. He shrugged slightly and turned back to the mirror. "Alex." the voice called, somehow closer this time. Again he turned in its direction, this time turning off the razor. "Hello?" He called, taking a step towards the door. "Jack? Rian?" No one. "Note to self, Google signs of schizophrenia." He laughed. The sound of his voice echoing off the tile made it all seem less surreal. One last glance around and he leaned in a third time, tilting his head to run the small razor under his jaw. Then he saw her reflection. Just over his shoulder was a middle aged woman. Gaunt and pale, eyes smudged with the deep circles. "Fuck!" Alex swore reflexively and dropped the razor. As he spun away from the counter his foot slipped on the wet floor sending him sprawling backwards. He managed to catch the edge of the sink with his right hand, landing hard on his left elbow. He sat, dazed for a moment, eyes darting across the room as his jeans soaked up the puddle he'd slipped in. With a deep breath he pulled himself off the floor, and gazed back into the mirror, where he'd seen her. Much to his relief she was gone. Again he gazed around the room, the hazy steam had begun to dissipate, leaving only the harsh fluorescent illumination and the sound of his own breathing. Alex shook his head again and began gathering his things. "I think we'll just straight up 'Nope' this one." He inhaled sharply as any icy chill ran up his spine, his skin prickling with unease. He swallowed hard, jaw clenched, and slowly looked back up into the mirror. This time she stood directly behind his right shoulder, close enough that turning his head would bring them face to face. She opened her mouth and bright red blood seeped out from between her teeth. "Jesus Christ!" Alex ran, bag forgotten, past the bank of showers, sliding shoulder first into a wall before making the turn to the door.  
He raced full clip down the hall, and slammed through the door to the green room. Jack jumped at the sudden ruckus sitting up and swinging his legs off the couch in one motion. "What's up dude?" He followed his friend's stare towards the door. Alex opened his mouth, but couldn't immediately find the words to answer. "What?" Jack pressed again, his tone becoming more concerned. "I see dead people" He finally spat the only thing he could think to say. Jack rolled his eyes, along with most of his upper body." I thought you were serious for a second, jeez." "I am serious." Alex replied. "Yea, and all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Jack laughed. "C'mon lets go find everyone else." Jack tossed a shirt in Alex's direction and then made his way out of the room. Alex physically shook himself to reset and grabbed a pair of sneakers to follow, but not before covering the small decorative wall mirror with a towel before leaving the room.

Rian:  
Rian didn't so much stand in the wings of the stage, as he bounced. Hopping from one foot to the other, heel tapping which migrated to his hands moving in syncopation against his thighs. "Hey Monday" was going through their sound check, and Rian loved watching Cassadee sing. Everyone had playfully busted him suggesting he was hard core crushing on her. And while Rian wasn't ready to admit anything close to that, he also couldn't deny that he couldn't take his eyes off her, or that every once in a while he'd catch himself grinning, kind of like an idiot.  
The sudden stop in the melody broke him from his thoughts as Alex pulled at a string that had snapped. "Well, at least it broke now instead of later." Cassadee laughed taking a seat on the riser. Rian tried not to stare like a total creeper, until he noticed a shadowy silhouette on the far side of the stage, with no discernible source. The shape was definitely that of a person, but the light was too dim to cast a shadow so obvious, along with the more pressing issue of no one being on the other side of the stage. Before he could wonder any further his ears pricked up at a strange sound. A strained creak that started somewhere over his head, followed shortly by the twanging snap of something under pressure. Rian looked upwards, his eyes widening as a large shadow dropped towards him. Without thinking he dove forwards just before a large sandbag landed where he'd stood half a second before. Rian turned to look over his shoulder, still sprawled half on his stomach, at the ancient looking canvas bag. It's old thick rope coiled over top and spilling onto the floor ending in frayed strands.  
"Holy shit! Are you ok?" Mike approached first, followed closely by Cassadee and Elliot. Rian looked to them then back again, his brain frozen trying to process it. Before it could he felt several pairs of hands helping him to his feet. "I, uh, yea. I'm fine it missed me." He finally spit out, still half gaping. "Where the hell did that thing come from?" An older, heavy set crewman asked. "Uh the ceiling, not to be too obvious." Rian couldn't keep the brusque tone from his reply. The man's face colored and he continued; somewhere between apologetic and awed. "No, I mean, we haven't used sand bags here since the 60s. Not since one fell and killed someone." Rian blanched and looked back at the bag. "I'll catch you guys a little later." He turned to leave without waiting for a reply.

Jack:  
Jack couldn't recall the last time he'd had a nightmare, if ever. His mother had mentioned, more than once in his life that, "Asleep when was when her youngest was on his best behavior." But ever since they'd arrived in Wisconsin he hadn't had a decent moment away from reality. It had started on the bus around 3 am when they'd parked at the venue. He couldn't recall the details, but whatever the dream was had been enough for Jack to flail himself awake in his bunk, wrapped in a straight jacket of his bed sheets. Cheeks wet, hair and shirt plastered to him with sweat and heart racing so fast he wasn't sure how it remained in his chest. After several hours of tossing and turning he'd managed to doze off, only to be reawakened by Zack, peering into his bunk. "Dude, you were yelling in your sleep." "I was?" the notion genuinely perplexed him. "No more late night burritos." Zack laughed and then left.  
By mid afternoon Jack was dragging, and while Zack was off exploring, Rian drooling over Cassadee, and Alex busy writing, he decided to try and catch up before the show. The green room was simple, but the over stuffed couch was comfortable and the windows cut out just enough light to make nodding off relatively easy.  
As soon as Jack realized he was sleeping, he regretted it. Scenes of utter gore painted his landscape in buckets of red. Jump cuts of trauma, anguish and heart wrenching loss played out on a loop that left him a gutted shell of empathy. Lucid dreaming was impossible here, the weight of emotion crashed down on his efforts to control the dream like a wave of sheer force. "Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. OH GOD! I wanna wake UP!!!" Hands belonging to desperate eyes clawed at him. Pulling him down into a tar pit of human suffering. He fought relentlessly, but for every one he shook off, three more clung to his limbs, over powering him until he was neck deep in the warm muck, still sinking with an overwhelming sense of dread. He screamed a final defiance and closed his eyes tight before the black ooze seeped into his mouth to silence him, slowly suffocating him.  
Jack bolted up gasping, unable to shake the feeling of warm thickness coating the back of his throat. Blinking rapidly he glanced around the room. Alex still sat at the small desk, laptop glowing around him, headphones shutting out the world. Jack took a deep, shaky breath and forced himself to calm. With a deft twist he snapped the plastic wring on a water bottle and gulped for several long seconds. His mind idly drifted to, anything stronger, but he decided against it. Instead he picked up an issue of Kerrang, several months out of date that had been left, stuffed between the couch and a small table. The news in the articles was all well familiar to him, but he read on anyway, embracing the distraction as not to drift back to the dream. After several minutes he heard Alex sigh in frustration before dropping his headphones onto the desk. "Stuck?" Jack asked. "Yea." came the gravelly reply. The folding chair scraped across the floor as Alex stood, stretching stiffly. "Screw it, I'll come back to it later. What time is it?" "Almost "6 "I'm gonna jump in the shower before the show." Jack glanced over "You never clean up before our dates!" He couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from curling slightly. Alex dropped a towel on his head in reply. Jack pulled it off, his grin growing wider. Alex turned at the door, suddenly thoughtful "Hey, I heard you wake up last night. You ok?" Jack kept smiling, but flinched internally. "Yea, no, totally." "Ok. Hey maybe you'll get to grab a nap before we go on stage tonight." Alex smiled warmly. Jack felt his face drain of color as his friend left the room. "Not til we get the fuck out of this town." he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I included "Hey Monday" in this, buuuut I didn't want to tag them in case anyone was searching for HM, or the members, and then got all disappointed cause they're not "really" in this. Is there a Miss Mannerly's version of tagging rules??
> 
>  
> 
> Addendum: So Parxtrash sent me a message that The Rave is in Milwaukee, and not Madison (but I think they deleted the comment??) Either way D'OH!!! My bad! -not sure where I mentioned it (did I change it in a draft? I don't know I have the memory of a mushroom -no hate to the fungi I love you on my pizza) Thank you for the correction!!! :D


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